


The Other One Percent

by JeromeClarke107



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Admiration, Britta in denial, Britta likes Jeff, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Frenemies, and she also kind of hates him a little, but she doesn't want to, takes place at some point during season one prior to Modern Warfare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27392422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeClarke107/pseuds/JeromeClarke107
Summary: Britta completely despises Jeff Winger. Except, she kind of doesn't when he sleeps.
Relationships: Britta Perry/Jeff Winger
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39





	The Other One Percent

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a one word prompt list created by heclgehog on wordpress.
> 
> Prompt: vulnerable
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Feel free to message me at JeromeClarke107 on Tumblr, too!

Jeff Winger may be the most insufferable person Britta’s ever met.

He’s narcissistic, entitled, and completely indifferent towards anything that doesn’t benefit him. He’d gone to obnoxiously extensive means in an attempt to get in her pants, and after being “friends” for a month or two, she’s still labeled as “Hot Blonde From Spanish Class” in his phone contacts.

He lies and cheats and completely disregards the feelings of everyone beyond himself. He’s frustrating to the point of no return, and Britta spends about ninety-nine percent of their time together forcing herself to abstain from punching him in his smug, stupid face.

But it’s that other one percent of the time that proves to be an issue.

The ironic thing about it all is that she can only really stand to be in his presence when he’s asleep, but he’s so fucking cute when he sleeps that it’s just almost worth it.  
She notices it in the student lounge when, after studying for an hour or two, he’d stretched out across the couch and rested his head in her lap. She’d almost pushed him off in disgust then, and now, she kind of wishes she had.

It would’ve solved a lot of her problems.

But, instead, she hesitated. She allowed her eyes to linger on his face for a moment, all looks of arrogance that he usually wears absent from it, and she finds herself entranced by the deep sleep he’s fallen into.

He looks so peaceful, so _vulnerable_ , and his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as his breathing evens out. Every now and again, he makes these sweet, quiet whimpers as he shifts slightly in her lap, and before she realizes what she’s doing, she’s running her fingers through his hair and admiring the way his chest moves up and down as he breathes.

She brushes her fingertips across his cheek and lets them slide down his face, brushes them against the light stubble that he’s started letting grow a little before he shaves it off. She likes it, she decides, and she wishes desperately that she wasn’t so easily charmed by the way his full lips are opened only slightly as he dreams.

He’s actually kind of beautiful when he’s not talking, she realizes despite herself. 

And then Star-Burns (of all fucking people) walks by and catcalls them, and Jeff jerks awake and fumbles out of Britta’s lap. She mourns the loss silently.

“How long was I out?” He asks, his blue eyes still tired from sleep as he tries to gather himself, picks his Spanish book up off the floor.

_Not nearly long enough_ , she thinks to herself, then realizes he’s staring at her because she hasn’t answered. And also because she’s staring at him.

“Britta?” he says, his smile managing to not annoy her for once, and she hates that her heart jumps when he says her name.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m fine,” she stumbles over her words, and she’s glad he’s too tired to completely comprehend what she’s saying, “I’m cool, man. Everything’s good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

He smirks, “Ok.”

She wishes he’d go back to sleep.


End file.
